What Brothers are For
by ArtistHeart
Summary: When Sam injures his back on a hunt, Dean does everything he can to remain calm and nurse him back to health. Hurt/comfort.


Sam sucked in a deep breath of air as Dean lifted him up from the ground. His shoulder was completely out of socket, and his back felt close to broken. The demon they were hunting had thrown him through a china cabinet. The force of the impact had hit Sam's shoulder so hard that it forced his joint out of socket and badly bruised the blade. The entire length of his back had hit the beams holding the doors together, and he could feel the blood soaking through his shirt from the china cabinet glass.

Dean pulled Sam's good arm around his shoulder and laced his fingers through Sam's belt loop, being careful not to press too hard on his back. Sam let out a sharp breath of air. Dean began to walk. "Come on Sammy lets get you to the car."

Dean basically had to drag Sam to the impala. His feet didn't seem to want to move very quickly. His labored breathing told Dean that he was minutes away from passing out.

"Just a little further Sam. Don't give up on me," Dean encouraged.

They finally reached the car and Dean helped Sam into the back seat. His arm was soaked with blood from Sam's back. Dean's chest tightened with worry. He positioned Sam stomach down, with his dislocated shoulder towards the front of the car. He didn't want to injure him further.

Dean hoped there would be enough gas in the tank to get them back to the cabin. They had used the reserve jugs to burn up the demon. They were staying in a secluded place in the woods, basically in the middle of nowhere. This particular job had required them to be extra stealthy and off the radar. That would work to their disadvantage now, but they didn't have enough gas in the car to go anywhere else, and at least the cabin had stitches and a fire place.

Dean drove back to the cabin with a lead foot, cringing at the stifled sounds of pain coming from the back seat. He listened helplessly as Sam sucked in desperate breaths of air. He was beginning to panic and Dean knew he needed to get him fixed up and calmed down as soon as possible.

"Hang in there Sammy. We're almost there." Dean assured him.

The car finally rolled to a stop a few feet away from the cabin door. Dean wasn't concerned too much about his parking job at this point. "Alright Sammy here we go," Dean said as he opened the back door and began lifting his little brother up.

They slowly made their way to where Sam slept. Dean lead Sam to the bed where he crashed face first into the covers. Dean lifted Sam's back feet up onto the bed and took his shoes off. Sam gripped the pillow with his good arm and buried his face into it. Blood began to stain the sheets.

"Dean." Sam's voice was full of pain.

"You're okay Sammy. I'm gonna fix you up." Dean reassured. Now he just needed to reassure himself. He put a hand underneath Sam on his chest, and pulled him onto his side. He positioned his hands on Sam's shoulder and set his jaw. He could feel Sam shaking. "Take a deep breath, I'm gonna put your shoulder back in place." Dean said. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he drew in a nervous breath. "One, two," crack. Sam cried out in pain and rolled back over onto his stomach. He sucked in deep gulps of air, trying to fight off the screams of pain that danced behind his lips. "There. Good as new." Dean said tersely.

Dean took a knife from his belt and began to cut a line up the back of Sam's shirt, carefully peeling it away from the glass impaling his skin. Dean gasped as he took in the sight of Sam's injuries. His shoulder blade was extremely swollen and darkened, and deep blue and purple bruises lined his spinal chord and bunched up against the small of his back. He pulled the shirt out from under Sam and threw it in the trash can.

"How bad is it?" Sam said through clenched teeth. It felt pretty bad to him. He wanted to scream.

"Nothing a little whiskey can't handle." Dean joked, trying to hide the concern in his voice. He was a good liar when he was trying to keep his brother calm.

He opened a bottle of whiskey and began to pour it over the wounds. Sam arched his back and let out a cry of pain, burying his face further into the pillow to try and hide his distress. Dean put a hand on the back of Sam's neck. He could feel the rapid pulse beating against his palm. "Shh. You're okay Sammy." And he poured more whiskey, trying his best to stay calm through Sam's cries of pain. He then began to pull the pieces of glass out of Sam's back with a pair of tweezers, periodically wiping away blood with a damp wash cloth. Once he was done pulling them out, he stitched up the deeper wounds.

He wet a bath towel with cool water, laid it over the surface of Sam's back, and pressed down gently in hopes that the pressure would slow the bleeding. Sam flinched away from Dean's touch and let out a puff of air. The pressure of Dean's hand sent waves of shooting pain up his spine. He took his face out from the pillow.

"Dean." Sam said between labored breaths. "I think my back is broken."

"Dude, you wouldn't have been able to walk if that was the case." Dean said, hoping he was right.

Sam buried his face into his pillow again. Well, whatever his back was, it hurt. He could barely even breathe without making the pain worse. Sam's blood was beginning to soak through the towel Dean has laid over his back, and sweat dripped down his bare arms. He was visibly trembling. Dean replaced the bloodied towel with another, silently praying and hoping that the bleeding would slow down. Sam was losing too much blood. Dean pressed down on Sam's back again to apply more pressure. He flinched again. His trembling grew more pronounced, and his back hitched a few times. Dean realized he was crying.

He knelt down and brushed Sam's sweaty hair behind his ear. "Shhhh. You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna take care of you alright?" Dean knew just by the way Sam was reacting that this was serious. It wasn't like him to cry from pain. In fact, Dean hadn't seen Sam act this was since they were kids.

Dean quickly got up and dampened a washcloth with cool water. He placed it on the back of Sam's neck and held it there, talking softly to him in hopes that it would calm him down. Sam finally began to quiet at his brother's voice and touch. He unburied his face from the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, ridding them of leftover tears. "Dean, I'm scared." He said so quietly that Dean barely heard him.

"I know Sam. But you're gonna be okay. I'm gonna take care of you. You hear me?" Sam nodded weakly. Then he sunk into a world of unconsciousness.

Dean had no idea what to do. Sam needed a hospital, and that was absolutely out of the question. They would just have to wait it out for a few days until Sam was well enough that Dean could leave him alone to get either gas or cell service. They would have to ride it out for tonight.

Dean reluctantly left his brother's side and jumped in the shower. He had a few injuries himself, nothing compared to his brother's, but injuries just the same. He washed away he blood and dirt from his body and took deep breaths, trying to rid himself of pent up anxiety. He needed Sam to be okay. After he was finished cleaning up, he threw on some boxers and a tee shirt and went to check on Sam one more time. He was sleeping. Then he climbed into his own bed and closed his eyes, hoping that when he woke up this would all have been a dream.

But it wasn't. He woke up to screaming. "Sammy!" Dean jolted upwards and out of bed. He rushed over to Sam's side.

"No! Dean, make them stop! Make them stop! They're killing me! Aghhh!" Sam was screaming bloody murder.

"Sam! Wake up! It's me, it's Dean. You're safe! Nobody is hurting you!" He placed a hand on Sam's face. He was burning up. Dean's heart leaped and began pounding against his chest. "Sam!"

Sam jolted awake. He began to look around frantically, grasping for some form of reality to tether himself to.

"Sam. Look at me!" Dean moved Sam's face to look at him.

"Dean?" Sam said, confused.

"Yeah buddy it's me. It's me. You okay? You were dreaming." Dean tried to steady his voice.

"Dean it hurts so bad. It hurts. Make it stop please ple-" and Sam began to sob uncontrollably. His shoulders shook violently. He attempted to roll off of his stomach and over onto his side, failing miserably as a wave of pain lashed through his back. It felt as if a thousand knives were stabbing him simultaneously. The anvil of pressure on his back made the pain too much to bear. He wanted to die. He cried out in pain.

"Shhh...you're alright. I'm gonna get you some medicine Sammy." Dean got up and unzipped Sam's backpack, searching for ibuprofen. His trembling hands made it difficult for him to open the bottle. He needed to pull himself together, for his brother. He took a deep breath, rushed back to his brother's side, and lifted Sam up enough that he could swallow a gulp of water and the medicine.

Sam's teeth chattered as he shivered from fever. He let out a small groan of pain. Each breath send searing pain from his back up into his head. He dropped his tear-streaked face down to the pillow.

"Hey buddy, I'm gonna take care of you. We will get through this together. Just try to get some rest okay?" Dean said in the most comforting voice he had.

"Kay." Sam replied. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, failing at times because of the pain and succeeding at times because of the exhaustion. Finally, his sleep became deep and he drifted off into a place where he could feel absolutely nothing.

Days passed, and Dean took care of his delirious brother. Sam was asleep most of the time, and when he was awake he was completely unaware of his surroundings. The fever was blinding him from reality. Dean hoped it wouldn't do permanent damage.

Dean had been icing Sam's back and cleaning his wounds, and luckily the bruising was beginning to heal. Hopefully that was a good sign. That meant his back probably wasn't broken after all. He had waited until Sam had been unconscious to press along his spine to search for anything out of the ordinary; crooked spots, breaks. He found nothing. He hoped and prayed Sam would be able to sit up when his fever finally broke.

With each passing day, Dean grew more and more tense. He could barely hold food down because of nerves. He was so worried about his little brother. He couldn't imagine life without him. He tended to him hour by hour, sitting next to him on the bed, wiping away the sweat from his brow and calming him when the nightmares came. Dean needed Sam to be okay. He needed it.

Finally one night around 7:30, Sam's fever broke. He opened his eyes. "Dean?" He asked, completely panicked. "Dean where am I? What happened?" His heart pounded against his chest and cold sweat began dripping down his forehead. He took in deep breaths of air, struggling with each inhale. Confusion clouded his mind.

"Sammy! Thank God you're awake. It's okay! You're okay. Calm down." Dean ran to Sam's side and put a hand on the back of his neck. He felt Sam relax a bit at his touch.

"How long have I been out?" Sam managed through ragged breaths. He was clueless.

"Almost four days bro. I was beginning to think you were never gonna come out of it." Dean smiled slightly.

"I can barely feel my back. Feels numb almost." Sam said.

"Pain medicine will do that to ya. I found some of the good stuff left over at the bottom of the ibuprofen bottle." Dean smirked. "Your back seems to be healing though, I don't think it's broken. You pulled just about every muscle you have back there, but you didn't break it."

Sam began to move in efforts of turning himself onto his side. He winced.

"You wanna try and sit up? You haven't eaten in five days. You've lost at least 15 pounds." Dean put a hand under Sam's arm.

"Why not." Sam said, shrugging his good shoulder. He figured he had nothing to lose.

Dean put his right hand on Sam's side and his left hand under his arm and began to gently pull Sam up off of the bed. Sam sucked in a deep breath of air and held onto it for dear life. It took everything he had to keep from screaming. After a few seconds of blinding pain, Sam was in a sitting position. Searing pain coursed through his back, and his shoulder was so stiff he could barely even move his right arm. He exhaled the breath he had been holding onto so tightly, and let out a soft cry of pain. He lifted trembling hands to his face. The pain was better than it was four days ago, but still debilitating. Maybe it would never go away. Maybe he would have to deal with this forever. What it he could never hunt again? What if he had to walk with a cane for the rest of his life? The thoughts gripped his mind and took over his sense of reality. He began to hyperventilate.

"Whoah, take it easy bro." Dean crouched down in front of Sam and grasped his wrists with gentle hands. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea just yet. Why don't we lay you back down, huh?"

"No! Can't move. I can't..." Sam managed through gulps of air. He dropped his hands from his face and began to fall forward. His back couldn't support all of his weight. Dean caught him and held him up, one arm strong on his chest and one arm on the side of his neck and face to support his head.

"Shhh Sammy. You're okay. Calm down." Dean gripped Sam's face and brought his sweaty forehead to his own. He looked into his little brother's eyes. His hand moved rapidly up and down on Sam's chest, sweat glistening on his fingers. "Listen to me Sam. I know you're in pain. I know you think there's no way out, but there is. You are going to get better and I am going to make sure nothing happens to you along the way alright?"

Sam closed his eyes. His breathing began to slow down. Dean was going to protect him. Dean was right there. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe. "Thank you Dean."

After Sam's breathing had returned to normal, Dean leaned back to look at him. He was pale and shaky. He needed some food. "Can you sit up on your own?" Sam nodded. Dean hesitantly took his supporting hand away from Sam's chest.

"Alright. I'll be right back." Dean got up quickly and brought ice to put on Sam's back. He held it there for a while, watching the droplets of water dripping down his hand and his brother's back. Once the ice was basically melted in the bag, Dean heated up a bowl of soup. "Here you go Sam." He placed the bowl in Sam's hands and watched as Sam ate slowly. His hands trembled, sending half of each spoonful back into the bowl. Dean was just glad he was eating something.

"Dean?" Sam said in between sips of soup.

"Yeah." Dean looked up at him.

"Thanks for everything. I don't know what I would do without you." Sam's eyes were full of thankfulness and sincerity. Something that Dean had seen a lot of in his life.

"Well, if I don't look after you, who will?" Dean smiled. He would always look after his little brother. That was his job for life.

SNSNSNSNSNSN

After a few long weeks of recovery and rest, Sam was finally back on his feet. He owed it all to Dean. He had thanked Dean countless times, in which most of the cases Dean had just smiled and went along with his business. Sam knew that Dead would probably never grasp how much Sam really thought of him. He was the only one Sam had in life. Everyone else was either far away from them or dead. Dean was all he had. He knew that if Dean ever got into a situation where he needed help, that he wouldn't hesitate to be there for him. They would always look out for each other. That's what brothers are for.

The End

Thank you for reading! Please review. Without reviews I lose my spark. Let me know if you want me to continue writing. Inbox me requests. Thanks again!


End file.
